The Songfic Arc (Working Title)
by Strigoia
Summary: A story about love, betrayal, and everything that comes in between. Draco POV. Songfic series. Draco/Harry, with slash in later chapters.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry, Draco, or any of them. If I did, the Harry Potter books would be the first internationally adored children's slash series. So until that happens, you can rest assured that all rights lie in the hands of JKR.

**Warning:** Contains slash, angst, and the like.

This is my first Harry Potter fic, so please let me know how I'm doing.

  
  


**The Songfic Arc**

Prologue

  
  


Everything you have read, up till now, has been the truth.

After Voldemort's return, certain parties within the Ministry came together and agreed that, eventually, the wizarding community would need to make itself known to the rest of the world. But we couldn't simply walk down the streets of London in our robes and caps, waving our wands about and levitating objects as if there were nothing strange about it at all. Not unless we all wanting to end up in asylums, at any rate. Therefore, a plan was devised, one which would slowly prepare the Muggle population for the coming awareness of our existence.

A witch was hired, a woman by the name of Rowling, who had managed some level of success as an author of bedtime stories for children of wizarding families. She was commissioned to write a new series of children's books, fictionalized accounts of actual events. This is, as you know it, the Harry Potter series.

The idea was simple. Each book, based on some part of Harry's life (and I assure you, Harry is real), would reveal more information about the wizarding world: how we lived, talked, dressed, what manner of creatures we associated with, what games we enjoyed, what rules we abided by, and so on. They were also to contain details about Voldemort and his followers, and the war being waged between certain factions. After the first book was published, and found to be a wild success, the members of the Ministry breathed a collective sigh of relief. This was, after all, the greatest security breach they'd ever faced, and the future of Muggle relations depended upon the hope that the books would be well liked.

At present, there are four books in print, and another on the way. Although told as fiction, they are books of historical fact; the history of a young boy's life.

I should know. I was there.

My name is Draco Malfoy. You know me as a spoiled, arrogant young twit who gets off on the suffering of others. I can only hope that by the end of the tale I am about to tell, you will still regard me so highly as that.

This is neither a children's story nor a work of fiction. Although memory may deceive me here or there, the events I am about to describe did happen, and the characters do exist. I believe, however, that I will style this as a work of fiction; after all, what harm can it do? Perhaps it will ease the pain a bit if I pretend that it's all sprung from my imagination.

Enough dallying. Let's get on with it, then.


	2. So Fucking Special

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Harry, Draco, or any of them. If I did, the Harry Potter books would be the first internationally adored children's slash series. So until that happens, you can rest assured that all rights lie in the hands of JKR.

**Warning:** Contains slash, angst, and the like.

**The Songfic Arc**

I: So Fucking Special

  
  


I don't care if it hurts  
I want to have control  
I want a perfect body  
I want a perfect soul  
I want you to notice  
When I'm not around  
You're so fucking special  
I wish I was special  
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo  
What the hell am I doing here?  
I don't belong here.  
  
_Radiohead, "Creep"_

  
  


First off, let me assure you that I did indeed hate Harry Potter when we were children. None of that love-at-first-sight, _if only you hadn't rejected my friendship_ nonsense. I firmly believed then that he was an arrogant little git, and I hold to that position even now. Of course, I was no better, but we needn't dwell on that.

I still recall with perfect clarity the moment when my comfortable little universe shifted. It was near the end of our sixth year at Hogwarts, in the middle of Potions class. Goyle and I were just putting the finishing touches on a Painkilling Potion (or rather, I was putting the finishing touches on it, and he was drawing cartoons in his notebook) when a flash of movement caught my eye. Pansy Parkinson had tossed a small, sticky mass of jubberberries into Potter's cauldron. He tried to fish it out, but already the potion's color had changed and the contents of the pot had begun to bubble. Glancing towards the front of the room, I saw that Professor Snape was occupied with grading our scrolls; he hadn't seen it happen.

Normally, I loved to watch Potter and his Gryffindor friends get into trouble. Hell, half the time I went out of my way to make sure they did. But for some reason, this annoyed me. No one else had noticed Pansy's prank, not even Weasley and the Mudblood. Potter would get a detention, and he would fail the assignment. Snape would never believe him.

So without really thinking about what I was doing, I grabbed my own fistful of jubberberries. I walked over to the Gryffindor's side of the room and accidentally-on-purpose tripped over Potter's book bag, spilling the fruit into the already churning cauldron. He started, blinking up at me with a confused expression.

"Oops," I said, loudly enough to catch Snape's attention. "You should watch where you leave things lie, Potter. I might've broken something."

Weasley, who had taken notice when my berries splashed into Potter's cauldron, jumped up angrily. "Damn you, Malfoy," he hissed. "You did that on purpose!"

"Five points from Gryffindor for that outburst," Professor Snape said coolly, having come over to investigate. "What happened here?"

Potter opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. "I tripped over Potter's book bag, Professor, and dropped some berries his cauldron. I'm afraid the potion will be ruined - he'll have to start over, won't he?"

Snape looked at me oddly for a moment, then nodded. "Indeed. Twenty points from Gryffindor for your carelessness, Mr. Potter. You will begin the assignment again. Mr. Malfoy, please return to your seat."

So I did, and only then did I begin to wonder what the hell I'd just done. Saved Potter from a detention, certainly, but why? It was too strange to comprehend. I watched him from the corner of my eye as the class dragged on. Weasley was muttering something to Granger, and shooting death glares in my direction. But Potter ignored it. He continued to work, his brow furrowed, and every few moments he cast a furtive glance at me.

When it came time for lunch, I lingered behind for a few minutes, hoping the hall would have cleared by the time I left. No such luck. He was waiting for me, alone, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, falling into step beside me as we walked towards the Great Hall.

"Do what? Your bag was in the way, Potter. You should be more careful." I tried to sneer, but I'm pretty sure it was a failed attempt. I was too troubled myself to put up a decent façade. Quickly changing directions, I headed for the Slytherin dormitories instead. I needed to think.

"Malfoy," he called softly after me. I found myself stopping, turning to face him. He looked ridiculous, as usual. His hair was a mess, his glasses slightly askew, the weight of his book bag pulling his robe off one shoulder. "Yes, Potter?" I asked with a sigh. "What the hell do you want?"

He narrowed his eyes at me for a moment, then gave a tentative smile. "Just… thanks," he said, and then walked away, leaving me to stand there with the feeling that someone had just knocked me in the stomach with a very large Bludger.

* * *

The last two weeks of that year were spent surreptitiously observing Potter and his friends. I found myself oddly intrigued by him, even more so than I had been before. What made him so special, so loved by everyone? Surely it couldn't be just the scar. But then, celebrity is a powerful attraction, as are wealth and power. I, of all people, should understand that.

Here's what I learned about Harry Potter in those two weeks: he wears a lot of red, and he likes his eggs scrambled, and toast with strawberry jam. He is kind to people even when they are annoying the shit out of him. When someone is doing just that, his cheeks become flushed, and he speaks a bit faster than usual. He really stinks at Wizard's Chess (or else Weasley is just damn good, which I sincerely doubt). He has a number of expressions, happy and sad, angry and mischievous, compassionate and hateful, none of which I could do justice with mere words. He wrinkles his brow when he is deep in thought. He always removes his inkpot from his bag before anything else when class begins, and more often than not, he forgets to lace up his shoes in the morning.

Add all of this together, and you still know absolutely nothing about Harry Potter.

Something had definitely changed between us. No more insults were exchanged for the rest of that year, no more burning glares. If our eyes met, which they did from time to time, we looked away quickly. All but once. I held his gaze just one time, to see what would happen. He stared back at me with a puzzled expression, and then smiled at me once more. It happened again, that feeling like I'd just had the wind knocked out of me. I tore my eyes away. There was something about his smile…. It disturbed me.

But then the year was over. I returned home, and somehow managed to push those very strange last weeks from my mind.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

The inkpot bit in Draco's observations is a nod to Rhysenn's "Irresistible Poison," Chapter Nine. It goes like this:

  
  


"Do you know what is always the first thing he takes out of his bag when he sits down at his table in class?"

"His parchment?" Hermione suggested, realising that she hadn't a clue. "Or his quill?"

"No. His bottle of black ink." Draco gave her a serene, mildly smug smile. "Isn't it surprising how much you actually don't know about someone you thought you knew so well?"

  
  


It's a really excellent story, and if you haven't read it, I strongly urge you to do so immediately.

Next Chapter: Sixth year rolls around. What happens when they meet again? (Yes, this does all have a purpose, but it may take me a few chapters to get the plot rolling. Bear with me, please!)


End file.
